Taming Granger
by Jaycie Victory
Summary: If there was one thing Draco excelled at, it was plotting. Granger didn't stand a chance. D/Hr. 6th year; AU.
1. Prologue

**A/N This is a sequel to my one-shot 'Hermione's Hair', also available on my fanfiction profile. I would advise reading that first before beginning this fic. **

**Please insert usual disclaimer that these are not my characters and this is only written for fun.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Prologue:**

It was a few weeks since the incident in classroom 1B, and Draco was fixated.

And what was Draco fixated on? Granger.

More specifically, Granger's hair.

(Yes, he was just as surprised as anyone else would be about this.)

He really didn't _want _to be fixated on Granger's hair, but apparently he didn't have a choice in the matter.

But that wasn't even Draco's problem.

The problem was, having noticed how incredible Granger's hair was, he couldn't stop noticing. And this led to other unwelcome realisations.

That was the blasted thing about Granger: she wasn't beautiful, but no sooner had you detected one attractive feature, then another would jump out at you.

Like how her curling dark lashes were gold-tipped so you didn't realise how extraordinarily long they were until you got up close (when he squared up to an irate Weasley and Granger stepped between them), or the creamy perfection of her skin which candlelight revealed was totally without mark or blemish – not a freckle, not a mole. (That one was Potions' flatteringly lit fault.)

Worst of all was the day Ancient Runes revealed that Granger's lower lip was ever so slightly fuller than the upper one – when she started nibbling on it in frowning concentration. On a less intelligent girl he would have characterised it as a pout, on Granger…

Well, on Granger it felt like a challenge.

The day Draco noticed that was the day the scarcely acknowledged desire to kiss her became an obsession.

* * *

Draco was sat at a study desk near the entrance of the library, scribbling on a piece of parchment.

One of the reasons Draco was so good at torturing the less fortunate (i.e., everyone) was because of his attention to detail; he was willing to put the effort in to figure out his prey's weaknesses.

So when it came to his intense desire to kiss Granger, he began the way he began every project: brainstorming.

Draco reviewed his list:

~ Spike her pumpkin juice with Ogden's firewhisky.

Hmmm. Effective, but lacked finesse; and there was always the possibility that she would vomit on his dragon-skin shoes. No good, he decided. He wanted her responsive, not comatose.

~ Duplicate the smell of Amortentia

This one had promise. There was a fundamental sneakiness to it, he could appreciate. He already knew what two of her preferred fragrances were since she had blurted them out in class. Parchment and grass cuttings would be a cinch to recreate, and it shouldn't prove too difficult to discover what the third fragrance was; he was good at winkling out secrets.

But… what if one of the fragrances she was attracted to was Weasley? Or – Merlin forbid – _Potter?_ No – no, he decided. Infatuated he might be, but no power on earth would compel him to smell like Scarhead or the Weasel King.

~ Hit her with the Petrificus Totalus spell – immobilise her, and then kiss her as much as he wanted.

But that would be like kissing a statue. Literally.

~ Use the Imperius curse on her – could end up in Azkaban.

None of these were any good: he wanted her warm and willing. Draco studied the last entry on the list.

~ Walk up to her and ask, "Granger, fancy a snog?"

It was shudderingly upfront. Not Draco's modus operandi at all. But then, she was a fundamental, straight-as-a-wand Gryffindor. They _liked _things to be upfront and simple – mostly because they were about as bright as concussed trolls.

True, Granger was more intelligent than your average Gryffindor (or, truth be told, the average Slytherin; not including Draco, of course – Draco was anything but average), but she was still a Gryffindor – truthful and noble, and other vaguely nauseating things.

Hmmm...

Could he… could he perhaps try being _nice _to her? His brow creased at this hitherto unconsidered notion (not just in conjunction with Granger but with, well, anyone ever).

She was a bleeding-heart elf-lover after all, so perhaps if he just started a civil conversation with her… wouldn't her intrinsic Gryffindory-ness _require _her to speak to him? And once he got her talking, a request for a kiss should be well received, surely?

As fate would have it, the object of his obsession chose that moment to walk into the library, lush hair bouncing in time with her tread. Draco grinned. This was kismet.

Or rather kiss-met!

Risking the wrath of Madam Pince, he raised his voice to a loud whisper to hail her: "Hey! Hey, Granger!" Granger either didn't hear him or chose not to respond, continuing to make her way towards the stacks. Draco belatedly remembered the second component of his plan. He raised his voice again. "Looking good, Granger!"

Granger's answering look could have put an Avada Kedavra curse to shame. Raising her chin, she swept out of sight.

It was only then that it occurred to Draco that she might not have thought his comment was sincere.

Drat.

Apparently memories of every other time they had interacted were clouding her judgment.

Ah! Now there was a possibility – he could Obliviate her!

But no – no: the professors might get a little suspicious if she suddenly ceased to remember entire chunks of previous years at Hogwarts.

Dispirited, Draco returned to his actual reason for being in the library: his History of Magic homework.

His assignment was to produce a foot-long essay on how the wizarding world's relationships with magical creatures had changed over the last century. It was dry-as-dust stuff, but at least he got to choose which creature he made the centre of his study.

Stuffing the parchment and quill into his school bag, he got up and began the long walk to his chosen subject.

Hogwarts Library made a rabbit warren look linear. Its seemingly higgledy-piggledy layout was a total head-scratcher for new students. Thankfully, Draco had spent enough time there to know how to head straight for the Dragon section.

Sure it was a little on the nose for Draco to choose a dragon as his subject, but who was he to fight fate?

Unbeknownst to Draco, fate had other ideas.

His route to the Dragon section took him through the serpentine shelves of the Manuals; an alphabetised collection of treatises, manuscripts and books which taught the reader how to do anything from understanding the rules of Quidditch to making No Melt Ice Cream.

Such guides were of course extremely popular as homework aids, but there were so many of them, and they covered such a diverse range of topics, that a student could spend days looking amongst them and come up empty-handed. Unless they were able to guess or surmise the first letter of a relevant title, there was a good chance they'd never find a Manual to match their desired subject.

Draco slowed thoughtfully and started skimming along the titles as he walked.

The Manuals filled long curving cases with books lining either side. This meant if an overzealous student plied too much energy when they put a book back, it would send its counterpart perilously poking out the other side. (Merlin help you if plied enough force to make the book fall to the ground and Madam Pince caught you.)

As he walked, a slim, red volume with gold lettering in just such a precarious position caught Draco's eye. Draco paused and tilted his head to read it.

One pale blond eyebrow shot up; he plucked the treatise from the shelf and opened it to the first page.

"_The Granian are grey, winged horses. Equally fast on foot or by air, they are extremely hard to catch. Even if you did manage to capture a wild Granian, it would never accept you. Force is not the way to tame these creatures."_

Intrigued, Draco skipped a few chapters ahead, then a few chapters more. Homework forgotten, an idea began to coalesce in his mind.

This was going to take time; this was going to take cunning.

This was going to take stealth.

If there was one thing Slytherins were good at, it was playing the long game.

Game on, Granger.

* * *

**A/N 2 'Granian' are winged horses mentioned in_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. The name comes from the Norse/Germanic legend. Norse hero Sigurd (Siegfried in the Germanic version) had a horse named Grani ('grey') that ran more swiftly than the wind. Grani was the foal of Sleipnir, the steed of Odin, who was in turn the foal of Loki, when he assumed the form of a mare.**

**With thanks to the Harry Potter Wiki for this information.**


	2. Chapter One

**A/N This is an AU fic. For the purposes of this story, full canon applies up to the end of _Goblet of Fire._ Cedric Diggory didn't die and Voldemort failed to regain a body; he vanished with Wormtail and his whereabouts are unknown. **

* * *

Chapter One

**_Be sure to make numerous appearances in front of the Granian. After showing it that you're not there to scare or injure it, it will grow used to your presence. This is the first step to it accepting you. _**

**Extract from "_From __Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed_, a how-to guide on taming Granian".**

* * *

Draco's first step was to memorise Granger's timetable.

What with Gryffindor being paired with Slytherin for the core subjects, he and Granger shared a lot of the same lessons, and had even chosen some of the same electives, but these shared classes only furthered Draco's plans up to a point.

Whilst around other people, he could only communicate with Granger so much. Especially since a lot of those classes also included Potty and the Weasel.

Even if he was willing to deal with the embarrassment of actively pursuing Granger, judging by her reaction in the Library, the presence of others – their reactions – would likely only convince her he was being sarcastic or insincere.

And to be frank, Draco _wasn't _willing to deal with the embarrassment. He might not be full-blown Death Eater material, but he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys did _not _slum it with Muggle-borns. At least not openly. A relationship with Granger was out of the question.

But that was fine – all he wanted was a snog.

Just one kiss. Enough to get this insane physical pull out of his system.

But first he had to win her over. And lessons weren't enough to do it. The most he could do in the Gryffindor classes was be neutral – civil at a push. The electives gave him a little more wriggle room, but still, what he needed was time alone with her.

So he did what any self-respecting Slytherin would do: memorised her timetable and watched from the shadows until he figured out the times she was most vulnerable.

Standard.

* * *

Fortunately, Granger appeared to be a creature of habit; someone who valued the comfort of routine. She practically had set times for everything: when she took her meals, when she liked to go for walks, when she liked to study (which accounted for most of her free time).

But it was important to remember Granger was no idiot – if he showed up too often in too short a space of time, she would quickly become suspicious.

So Draco started off small: arranging it so that he frequently passed her in corridors, timing it so that he entered classrooms at the same time as her, manoeuvring himself so that he was standing next to her. He was careful to keep at least a foot of space between them at all times, but whenever she looked at him, he would nod politely at her.

At first Granger looked surprised, then surprise quickly gave way to deep suspicion. However, she limited her antagonism to a single glare then pointedly looked away, ignoring him. As far as he could see, she steadfastly avoided looking at him.

Undiscouraged, Draco continued with his plan. Every day he would find at least one time to stand near to Granger without saying anything, just peaceably standing nearby.

He became so sensitised to her, he swore he could feel the slight but unmistakeable tension rolling off her body in his presence. Which meant he was aware of the first day it started to lessen.

It had taken four days of carefully timed encounters, but on the fourth day, he took his place next to Granger outside classroom 6A, waiting for the previous occupants to vacate. Granger's face was buried in _Spellman's Syllabary_. She was so engrossed that when Draco drew alongside her, she didn't even look up. Draco cleared his throat, causing Granger to glance up with an abstracted expression. Draco nodded at her; she absent-mindedly nodded back and returned to the runes.

Schooling his expression so none of his internal elation showed, Draco spoke to Granger for the first time since instigating Project Kiss-met:

"Morning, Granger."

Her head snapped up in surprise, suspicious expression back, but Draco retained his polite smile. Granger's eyes narrowed, waiting, but when nothing more was forthcoming she spoke, slowly and uncertainly: "Good morning."

Draco nodded again and looked away, allowing his polite smile to take on a disinterested tinge, as though their greeting one another amicably was an everyday occurrence.

He could feel Granger studying his face, waiting for the punch line, but after a few seconds more, she slowly returned to her book.

Project Kiss-met was off to a flying start.

* * *

After a week of "accidentally" running into Granger and civilly exchanging greetings, Draco judged that it was time to increase the contact. That evening, he accosted Granger on her pre-supper walk.

Draco had made good use of the time it had taken to work out Granger's schedule, using it to study her habits, her favourite foods, her likes and dislikes. One of the pieces of information he learned was that Granger took daily walks. Usually when the Ponce and the Pauper were occupied with Quidditch practice.

That afternoon, he timed it so that their paths crossed by the lake.

Granger stopped in surprise when she saw him walking towards her, but didn't try to leave when he moved to stand alongside her.

A light breeze skimmed across the surface of the lake, ruffling their hair; Granger's chaotic curls were more affected then Draco's sleek strands and her well-remembered scent came to him on the breeze, momentarily distracting Draco from his careful plans. Mmmm... vanilla.

Focus, Draco!

"Hi," he said.

"Hi..."

A small crease formed between Granger's eyes. She opened and closed her mouth several times as though already unsure of what she was about to say.

Draco easily read the question she was working up to, so made sure he got there first. "Granger, are you following me?"

"Huh?" asked Granger intelligently.

"Wherever I look lately, there you are..." He tilted his head. "I'm starting to wonder if you've got a crush on me."

Granger began to splutter.

The breeze picked up again; an errant curl broke free from the rest, drifting across Granger's face. She raised a hand to impatiently brush it away, but Draco got there first.

Gently grasping it between thumb and forefinger, he lazily wound the tendril round his finger, delighting in its downy texture. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he gently tucked it behind Granger's ear.

Granger's head jerked back in surprise, but her expression was more confused than suspicious.

"What are you up to, Malfoy?"

Draco's raised-brow inquiry was the very picture of innocence. "Your hair was in your eyes. Wouldn't want your eyesight to be compromised – it might impede your view of me. Good day to you, Granger." He nodded at her then sauntered back inside.

Damn. Granger was even quicker on the uptake than he had anticipated. Accidental encounters weren't going to cover it. He needed deliberate meetings – but how to accomplish this without raising Granger's suspicions?

Draco made a mental list of what he knew Granger liked to do: lessons, telling others what to do, being an infuriating know-it-all...

His expression twisted in realisation.

The answer to all his problems was staring him in the face. But his pride was going to take a hit...


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N Thank you to those who have reviewed - special thanks to guest reviewers as I can't reply - and thanks to Ines. Your review gave me the impetus to update this evening :)**

* * *

Chapter Two

**_Once the Granian begins to tolerate your presence, spend a little time doing something it will enjoy__. Use your knowledge of what it likes. _**

**Extract from "_From Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed_, a how-to guide on taming Granian".**

* * *

Draco left it two more days before he approached Granger again.

She had clearly been surprised by his move by the lake and hadn't reacted entirely favourably (he did not want her jerking back every time he touched her), so Draco had concluded he needed a more circumspect approach.

During those two days, he maintained the daily greetings and raised the stakes by politely requesting she pass the eel entrails during Potions. (The latter had earned him a funny look from both Weasley and Pansy.)

On the third day, he waited until he knew Granger had a free lesson after lunch and engineered a meeting en route to her common room.

Even with his slight misstep at the lake, the previous week's work had obviously had its effect – she neither ignored him nor shot him a look of death, and even stopped in the corridor when he hailed her.

"Hello, Granger." Draco drawled. "I have a proposition for you."

Granger raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"The opportunity to spend large amounts of time in my illustrious company gazing upon my beauty."

Granger rolled her eyes. "Not interested." She stepped around him.

Drat. Too much snark. Draco stuck an arm out in front of her. "It's for the good of your education."

Granger stopped, head cocked. "What do you mean?"

"Are you familiar with the saying, 'To catch two Kelpie with one net'? Oh, wait – I forgot. You're a Muggle. It means—"

"I can extrapolate based on context." Granger's hands were on her hips.

Cheeky girl – she was trying to put him in his place by displaying her vocabulary. Two could play at that game.

"I am proposing a mutually beneficial, synergetic, symbiotic scholarly affiliation."

Granger didn't skip a beat. "Why would _you_ want to become study partners? No, wait – why would _I _want to become study partners?"

Draco shrugged. "To help improve your marks?"

Granger puffed up with indignation. "I don't need help improving my marks – especially from you." She tried to step back around him.

Damn. She was becoming hostile – he was losing her. There was only one thing for it.

He had hoped to avoid this, but it was time to appeal to her inner do-gooder.

"Please, Granger – I need your help." Forcing the words out actually caused physical pain.

Granger stopped again. "With what?"

Draco plucked a subject out of the air. "Ancient Runes. I'm not achieving my full potential."

Granger's expressive eyes ran the full spectrum of emotion, first rounding in surprise, then narrowing in suspicion, searching his face for the truth. Then they so clearly filled with compassion it made Draco's skin crawl and his pride revolt. But moments later, all other emotions were totally eclipsed as she practically combusted with swotty excitement.

The glee on her face almost made his self-abasement worthwhile.

She looked so enticing, for one mad moment he almost tossed all caution to the wind and caught her up in a kiss then and there.

Restraining himself, he thanked her (which stung even more) and suggested they meet the following evening in the Library after dinner.

Granger happily complied, beaming once more. "I'm sure I can help you."

Draco hurriedly left before he was tempted to do something stupid – like kiss her.

Or vomit.

* * *

Draco had been busy in the two-day gap he had left Granger alone, carefully laying the groundwork for their study date even before he asked her.

He had scouted out the perfect space in the Library: a semi-enclosed area with red carpeting and a comforting fire nearby. It was tucked away behind the Legal section, where hardly anyone ever went since its fusty, arcane books could have been written by Professor Binns' less engaging twin.

Draco's reasons for selecting this study area were three-fold: 1) they were unlikely to be disturbed there, which meant 2) they were less likely to become objects of gossip, leading to unpleasant encounters with their respective hostile house members, and 3) it was romantic as hell.

Of course, Draco only told Granger about reason number one, pointing out they would get more work done with fewer interruptions.

If someone did happen upon them, Draco even had a cover story up his sleeve: they were being forced to work together in the name of inter-house unity. (A crackpot policy he planned to lay at Dumbledore's door.)

That evening, Draco got there several minutes early to ensure no one else was there, adjust the candlelight level, and spell the fire to burn continuously.

Satisfied the ambiance was suitably cosy but sufficient to read by, Draco sat down to wait.

* * *

When Granger was six minutes late for their rendezvous, Draco started to fidget.

When Granger was twelve minutes late, Draco practically chewed the nib of his quill off in frustrated impatience.

When Granger was twenty-two minutes late, he realised she wasn't coming.

Apparently her revulsion towards him even eclipsed her love to lecture and rescue. Draco was surprised at just how much that stung.

Angrily, he began gathering his things together, stuffing them haphazardly into his bag. Just then Granger appeared, bent double with the weight of her school bag.

"Hi, Malfoy!" Beaming, she set the bag down on the table with a loud THUNK.

"You're late," Draco said flatly.

Granger shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Sorry – I was delayed. Ron and Harry didn't want me to come. We had a... conversation about it." Granger's eyes sparked in remembered anger. But hers was nothing to Draco's.

Bloody, meddling, _stupid _BUNDIMUN!

Draco managed not to voice his livid thought, but his nostrils flared furiously. Thankfully, Granger was looking elsewhere, as she had begun to unpack her overladen bag.

He forced his voice to come out evenly. "So why did you come?"

Granger shrugged. "Ron and Harry aren't the boss of me. Besides, you said you needed my help." She smiled at him in a friendly manner, easing much of the tension from his body, and continued unpacking the books into a pile, which was now around a foot high. "Now," she continued, adopting a decidedly bossy tone. "I thought we could ease in with _Advanced Rune Translations _and _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_. Once we've covered the basics, we'll really get down to work." She gestured at the tower of books in front of her with a satisfied air.

Draco glumly surveyed the ever-increasing stack of starchy volumes.

This had better be a bloody good kiss.

* * *

**A/N 2 "The _Bundimun_ is a magical creature found worldwide. It is a greenish, many-eyed fungus that feeds on dirt and can destroy a whole house. Their presence is indicated by the foul stench of decay." From _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._**


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N Thank you again for the reviews - they really make me smile.**

* * *

Chapter Three:

**_Touch is a vital part of taming your Granian. __But attempting too much too soon will be detrimental to your __overall goal. Be sure to begin __with a small amount of contact. Gradually, __the Granian will become accustomed to your touch __and understand there is no danger to it._**

**Extract from "_From Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed_, a how-to guide on taming Granian".**

* * *

"The interesting part about this passage is the use of the rune 'algiz', which translates as 'protection'. It led to the now authenticated assertion that the original relic was part of a protection spell carved into the ramparts of a wizarding village. This is the widely accepted rune and translation. But one translator, Pertinax Asinus, insisted this was an error. He maintained that the stone inscription had been tampered with – that the museum which held the inscription had carved an additional line onto it to conceal the original rune 'nauthiz', which meant 'need' or 'necessity'. Asinus claimed it marked the location of what would have been a large hole in the ground and that 'need' was the colloquial name for the latrines. In short, it was a warning to make sure no one fell in the toilet. This assertion was hotly contested by..."

Thirty minutes into the study session, Granger was animatedly talking and Draco's eyes were beginning to glaze over.

He propped his head on his hand, trying to pin his attention by focusing on Granger's face. It was not an unpleasant pastime.

Another few minutes went by.

Abruptly, Draco realised he was staring. He had been watching Granger's mouth, mesmerised by the movement of her lips as they lovingly shaped themselves around words; 'u' sounds were his favourite: they puckered up her lips as though asking for a kiss.

Granger had gradually become aware of his scrutiny, speech slowing down before coming to a full halt. She was staring at him in bewilderment, cheeks beginning to colour and eyes starting to widen as bemusement threatened to give way to panic.

Whoops. Too much, too soon.

"D'you think we could get back to the assignment now?" he asked in a slightly bored tone. "I'm sure this tangent is fascinating, but I haven't got all night."

Granger's face performed a Wronski Feint; the change from embarrassment to indignation was so abrupt it was almost comical.

Draco's apparent regression to business-as-usual seemed to restore Granger's equilibrium and (after another monster glare), she huffily returned to the set reading.

"Fine. Well, it seems clear to me that the first translation is incorrect." She gestured at it. "I think Professor Babbling put it in our assignment as a decoy, so if we take that as read, the inscription must have been a spell for prosperity—"

"Hold on, Granger." Draco frowned as he interrupted. "What about Spellman's discovery of the seven Younger Futhark runes? Factoring those in, isn't it possible it isn't a decoy?"

Granger blinked, momentarily wrong-footed; she gazed down at the text with a chagrined expression, then as the import of what Draco was saying sank in, it melted into excitement.

"Malfoy, that's it! That's the key! It's _not _a decoy – which means it's _not_ a spell for prosperity – it's a spell for fertility! You just saved me hours of work and potentially a lower grade!" She looked horrified at the thought. "_Thank you_," she said with heartfelt emphasis.

It was Draco's turn to blink. He hadn't expected know-it-all Granger to be capable of thanks after being proven wrong. "Er, you're welcome," he replied. His inner Slytherin pointed out that, speaking of fertility, this seemed like fertile ground, so how about it? (Apparently, his inner Slytherin was fond of puns.)

So thirty-four minutes into the study session, Draco made his move. He leant in to point at a rune, making sure he brushed up against Granger's arm as he did so, then he deliberately left his arm there to rest against hers.

Making no sign that he was aware of the contact, he continued to read aloud. Granger glanced at him, looking mildly uncomfortable, and shuffled her chair a few inches away.

Over the course of the eighty-minute study session, Draco allowed his arm to "accidentally" press against Granger's three more times, giving no sign he had noticed when it happened, nor when she pulled away.

At the end of the session, he politely bid Granger goodnight and they made arrangements to meet the following evening.

The next study session, he repeated the trick with his arm; Granger moved her arm away, but not her chair.

At the third session, as they peered at a particularly nasty rune, Draco once again allowed his arm to lightly press against hers.

Frowning in concentration, Granger's posture and tone remained unchanged as she sounded out possible translations. With a thrill of delight, Draco noticed her lack of response to the physical contact; how she accepted it as commonplace.

Progress!

* * *

At the fourth session, Draco overreached himself.

They had been poring over the next chapter of _Advanced Rune Translations_ (having completed the Runes assignment ahead of time, Professor Babbling had given them licence to extend their work for extra credit – extra credit! – how had Draco become this person?), and almost in spite of himself Draco had been getting more and more drawn into the debate.

"It could be... it could be." He nodded in response to Granger's proffered solution. "But remember what Babbling was saying about the crossover of numerical and lexical? I was thinking we should cross-reference it with _Logograms_."

"That's a good idea." Granger looked impressed; Draco couldn't help preening a little.

"Why don't you dig it out from your bag?" He casually brushed the back of her hand with his fingers. Granger practically jumped out of her skin, jerking her hand away.

"Actually, Malfoy, I think that's a good place to stop." The wariness was back in her eyes. "It's getting pretty late – I think we can finish this off in our own time. Why don't we leave it there?" She started packing her things away.

Draco wanted to object, but knew it would be fatal. Mind working rapidly, he considered his options. What would reach Granger better: appearing indifferent and aloof to make her question her suspicions, or showing vulnerability to appeal to her Gryffindor nature?

Decisions, decisions.

He settled for somewhere in the middle and smirked slightly. "The mighty bookworm vanquished? Never thought I'd see that happen... You're probably right, Granger. We'll both work better fresher." He met her gaze with a pleasant but somewhat detached demeanour. "Thanks for this evening, Granger. It's been interesting, and very helpful." The thank-you came out a little easier this time, though it still burned a little. "We'll get together for the next assignment?" His tone deliberately conveyed the impression that it was a given their study sessions would continue and all that remained was confirming the timing.

To his silent relief, it worked. Granger nodded slowly, some of the wariness leaving her. "Sure – let's do that."

She smiled at him slightly, and then left the study area, leaving Draco to slump in his chair.

He mentally reviewed the evening and the week leading up to it. Four study sessions over eight days. Extra reading, extra effort – extra homework! Not to mention working with Granger was – well – hard work. Not that Draco couldn't keep up, of course, but he had been taken aback at the sheer breadth of her knowledge and the subtlety of some of her observations. He had always assumed most of her vaunted intelligence was just a freakish ability to regurgitate what she had read.

It had even spurred him to start reading around the subject – outside of their study sessions. Draco was not accustomed to having to work this hard.

Draco wondered if he was going a little potty (the insane kind, not the insufferable Scarhead ponce kind). He had never had to put this much effort into getting a snog before.

There were times he found himself questioning whether it was really worth it.

Then he thought about when they had touched: Granger hadn't been the only one to jump – the jolt that had gone through his body at the slight skin-to-skin contact had been startling.

He also remembered how Granger would unconsciously nibble at her full lower lip whilst formulating a translation; he recalled the warmth radiating from her body as she sat beside him; he relived the occasional snatches of her scent when she flipped her hair...

Okay.

It was worth it.

* * *

**A/N 'Algiz' and 'nauthiz' are both genuine Norse runes which have a similar enough appearance to almost make this story true. They both have the meanings described here, but neither was a warning for a toilet :)**


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N I'm still waiting to see if anyone spotted the language joke in the previous chapter :) Yeah, I'm kind of a geek...**

* * *

Chapter Four:

**_If you are approaching a Granian which you know may run away from you, your best course of action is to keep it moving. Hold something in your hand, such as your wand or stick, which can act __as an extension of your arm. Use your extended arm to control the Granian's speed and direction. To start with, the Granian may resist__; it may try to stop or gallop away. Don't let the Granian make those decisions. If it tries to stop, tell it clearly and firmly to TROT._**

**Extract from "_From Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed_, a how-to guide on taming Granian".**

* * *

Lying on his bed, Draco had performed the Locomotor spell on his solid gold Gobstone set and was indifferently watching them dance in circles above his head.

He felt... restless.

Granger had been pulled away on prefect duties by McGargoyle and hadn't been able to meet in the Library for a few days, leaving Draco aware of a vague feeling of discontent. In one sense, it was good timing – having overplayed his hand last time, a few days apart would help soften the effects. As long as it didn't go on too long – Draco did _not_ want to have to start all over again from square one.

So that left him trying to be patient – something he had never excelled at – and with a great deal more free time on his hands. He should have been relishing the rest. Instead, he was bored.

Even torturing others had lost something of its zest. Not that he was losing his edge – it was just difficult to find the mental energy for these things when he had Project Kiss-met taking every ounce of his ingenuity.

His mind drifted back to the last study session with Granger, reliving the moment their hands had touched...

The door crashed open and one of his roommates, Zabini, sauntered in. His lip curled in a supercilious sneer when he saw what Draco was doing. "Bored by any chance, Malfoy?" he drawled.

"Don't be jealous, Zabini. I'm sure you could master this spell if you practised hard enough."

Zabini snorted, then started to smirk. "Well, we can't all benefit from Granger's tutelage, can we?"

The Gobstones wavered for a split second, one almost dropping, before Draco regained control. Deliberately, he retained his posture, arms tucked under his head, knowing how crucial it was that he remain nonchalant.

"Oh, heard about that, did you?"

"Theo got it from Bulstrode," Zabini replied, looking smug. "So, what's the story, Draco? Punishing Mummy and Daddy for not buying you something or just curious to see what Muggle food tastes like?"

"Hardly," Draco scoffed. "Dumbledore put me up to it."

One of Zabini's eyebrows shot up, his attitude one of amused scepticism. "Dumbledore?"

"Yep." Draco kept his gaze on the dancing balls. "Don't you remember the Hat's nauseating song at the beginning of the year? Dumbledore's on a house unity kick – says we have to stand together, and that just because the Dark Lord didn't succeed last time, doesn't mean he won't next time."

Zabini still looked sceptical, but Draco could tell he had thrown him. "And Dumbledore decided the only way to bring about peace and harmony for all wizardkind was to force you and Granger to have private study sessions together?"

"Think about it, Zabini." Draco delighted in throwing Zabini's condescending tone back at him. "I'm the scion of a paramount and powerful pureblood family – a Malfoy, no less – and foremost among Slytherins." He ignored Zabini's small noise of disgust. "And she's the bloody Gryffindor Princess, best friend of sodding Harry Potter and a massive player for the pro-Muggle camp. Who better to lead the way?"

Zabini wavered, but refused to crumble. "Why just you two? And why not publicise it?"

Draco shrugged. "Knowing the old coot, he'll have several other such schemes up his sleeve. And as for the other, he wanted it to look natural, not enforced from on high."

Zabini took one more pot shot. "So if I ask Granger about this, she'll confirm your story?"

Draco repressed the spike of panic he felt at this query; with some effort he kept his tone even, shading into boredom. "She might, but then again, we were both sworn to secrecy, and you know how Gryffindors are about keeping their word." Draco's tone made clear the wondering contempt with which both he and Zabini regarded this mindset.

Zabini was silent, out of ammunition.

Draco judged he had left it long enough for his exit not to appear suspicious. He was desperate to get away from Zabini and his incisive questions.

Seizing on the nearest excuse, he grabbed his Firebolt from where it was mounted above his bed. Moving towards the door, he threw one last assault over his shoulder. "And as you can see, 'Mummy and Daddy' always buy me whatever I want."

* * *

Striding through the green-lit dungeon, Draco found himself thinking that his flying ruse was actually rather a good idea. He had won the skirmish with Zabini, but the encounter had left him irritable and resentful that he had to lie. Not that he had a problem with lying, of course, but why should he have to? It was his bloody business who he chose to spend time with. He was a Malfoy. They made their own rules.

Some fresh air would help blast the strange restlessness from his mind and the tension from his body.

Emerging from behind the stone wall entrance, Draco began the long trek up from the subterranean levels and out on to the grounds.

It was en route to the Quidditch pitch that, to his surprise and inner amusement, he actually _did_ accidentally run into Granger. She must have been on one of her walks.

She had a curious look on her face, somewhere between wariness and a smile. "What are you grinning at, Malfoy?"

Draco hadn't realised he was until she pointed it out.

"Fortuitous timing," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Us running into each other," he clarified, whilst mentally running through subjects, since there was no outstanding work for Ancient Runes. "I thought we could brainstorm for the Potions assignment."

"Potions?" Granger raised an eyebrow. "You want to study for Potions too?"

Draco shrugged. "Why not? We've both done well out of the Runes sessions." He gestured back towards the castle with a grand, sweeping gesture. "Shall we go to the Library?"

"Now?" Granger looked slightly taken aback. "But you're carrying a broom."

Draco stared at it; in his excitement he had completely forgotten its presence. He decided to make use of it: pressing it against Granger's back, he applied gentle but firm pressure.

"Absolutely now," Draco replied, as he herded her in the direction he wanted her to go. "Come on, Granger – chop-chop. Time waits for no man."

Granger quirked a brow pointedly – it appeared to be a favoured expression of hers – and tried to dig her heels in. "Isn't that a Muggle reference?"

"King Canute was a wizard," Draco disagreed. "Why else would he command the tide to go back?"

"But he failed." Granger pointed out.

"Only because he chose the Aqua Eructo spell and ended up spraying himself in the face." He shook his head sadly. "See? You didn't know that. Clearly you need my help – we had better get to the Library as quickly as possible." Draco grinned in triumph when Granger chuckled; she had a pleasant laugh.

Taking advantage of her relaxed posture, he wrapped his hand round her upper arm and started dragging her towards the Library. To his slight chagrin, she slipped her arm free from his grasp, but then continued walking alongside him, chattering about other famous Muggle legends.

Okay, he decided, let's call that one a draw.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N Two chapters in one day today! Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter Five:

**_Allow the Granian to catch your scent as much as possible. Once it is accustomed to your smell, it is far more likely to allow you close enough to touch._**

**Extract from "_From Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed_, a how-to guide on taming Granian".**

* * *

Draco was in a thoughtful mood.

Project Kiss-met was in danger of plateauing. Granger and he still met regularly; he was always careful to make sure some part of his body brushed hers each time they interacted, and so long as there was clothing between them, Granger seemed to accept his touch and even his close proximity. His problem was the next stage: how to get her over her apparent skin aversion.

Still faithfully perusing the Manual, he was mulling over a particular chapter. It appeared to be a key one.

Animals were very influenced by smell – very sensitive to its effects. Smell identified friend or foe, warned them to run away, and even led to sexual attraction. Draco had come to the conclusion that the same must be true of humans.

Consider Amortentia – it was said to be the most powerful love potion in the world, and what was the whole of its magic predicated on? Scent.

Clearly, for Project Kiss-met to be successful, Draco would have to get Granger used to his smell. But how to do so was a puzzler.

He didn't think tackling her Shuntbumps-style and pushing her face in his armpit would go down well, and it was too soon to expect to get away with embracing her – she needed to be used to his scent before he tried that. Which brought him back to where he'd started: how could he get her used to his smell?

Try as he might, he couldn't think of an organic way to do it. But then one day, the opportunity presented itself all on its own.

* * *

After several outdoor encounters, Draco and Granger had a tacit agreement that if they ran into each other when Granger was out walking, Draco would accompany her. (Of course, Granger had no way of knowing it was highly unlikely she and Draco would "run into" one another, since he worked so hard to engineer their meetings. Nor did she know he made sure these meetings occurred either early or late enough to mean few students would be around.)

So it was one crisp morning before breakfast when Draco met Hermione on the far side of the lake.

"You're up early, Malfoy," she noted. She frowned as her eyes ran over him. "Do you seriously wake up with your hair looking like that or do you have it permanently charmed?" She sounded faintly exasperated. Now that he looked at it properly, he realised there was a certain I've-just-gotten-out-of-bed quality to hers. Strangely, it rather added to her appeal, along with cheeks pinkened from the cold.

He grinned at her. "Some of us are just born this good-looking, Granger."

She rolled her eyes at him, hugging herself slightly for warmth. Draco had sensibly prepared for his early morning outing with scarf and gloves, but Granger's Muggle coat was open at the throat.

"You're cold," Draco commented and began unwinding his scarf. He would rather have just given her his scarf to wear – he had a hunch the silver and green would set off her eyes nicely – but what were the chances she would willingly wear Slytherin colours? And even if she decided she didn't care, she'd probably be savaged by her fellow Gryffindors as soon as she entered her common room. Not to mention the gossip it might give rise to.

So he pulled out his wand and Transfigured the silver to gold before holding the scarf out to her. "Here." Granger looked startled. "It won't bite, Granger." He gave her his trademark smirk. "Look at it this way, which is more foolish: trusting me and wearing the scarf or suffering the cold for no good reason?"

One corner of Granger's mouth slowly lifted in a little half-smile which did strange things to Draco's insides. "Can I think about it and get back to you?"

Draco took a step forward into her personal space, then deliberately paused for a moment; when Granger didn't move back, he managed to repress his grin and nonchalantly wound the scarf round her neck.

Turned out the combination of emerald and gold suited her even better.

* * *

A few days later, Draco took his usual seat next to Granger in the Library, inching the chair along until his side lightly pressed against hers and their faces were side by side. To his dismay, Granger looked uncertain.

He thought they were past that point.

Then she spoke: "You smell... different."

Draco blinked. "What?"

"Your smell… it's changed. You smell different," she repeated.

Draco suddenly recalled using Blaise's body elixir that morning when his own had run out. On the one hand, he cursed himself for his blunder, but on the other... he took the slight moue of discontent on Granger's face as a very good sign.

He grinned at her. As though realising herself what her words could portend, Granger's cheeks blossomed with pink, and she drew his attention to the text with a bustling, business-like air. She looked so adorable blushing, Draco felt a surge of affection and longed to press his lips to the rosy pink, but judging by her slightly jerky movements and defensively hunched shoulders it would not be well received. Besides, he didn't smell like him, and from Granger's earlier tone, this was a problem.

Suppressing another grin, Draco bent his head to the text.

* * *

After the success of the scarf episode, Draco judged it was a good time to stretch Granger's boundaries a little.

As part of his initial Granger reconnaissance, he had conducted research into her likes and dislikes – especially her edible ones.

Because of this, Draco knew never to approach Granger having eaten or even been in close proximity to broccoli, and he knew that her favourite confectionery was chocolate truffles, the richer the better.

Draco had been holding this knowledge in reserve, wanting to deploy it at the moment of best advantage. Now seemed the perfect time.

Armed with a bag of Honeydukes' Dragon Eggs – a truffle so rich it made the taste buds try to invert – he entered their study area, brown paper bag open.

"Hey, Granger, want a Dragon's Egg?" He popped one in his mouth as he spoke.

Granger looked disapproving. "Malfoy." She frowned. "We're not supposed to have— did you say Dragon Eggs?"

"I figured we could use the sugar before we tackled Snape's assignment." He held out the bag, causally offering her a truffle, making sure it was clear he was happily chomping away on one. Even with their fledgling level of trust, he wagered Granger would be cautious of accepting food he offered.

Granger paused, clearly torn. "We're not supposed to have food in the Library."

"We'll Scourgify our hands before touching any books," he promised, then waved the bag around, allowing the rich scent to waft about freely.

Granger swallowed. "Alright," she conceded. "But only because the glucose will be beneficial for concentration."

She fished a truffle out the bag, tentatively bit into it, then sighed with delight, eyes closing in bliss and lashes fluttering.

Taking advantage of her closed lids, Draco raked his gaze over her face, enjoying this rare sight of Granger not only totally relaxed, but giving in to pleasure.

Draco swallowed, then eagerly offered her another one. Granger hesitated for a shorter period of time, then held her hand out; Draco made sure their hands briefly touched as she extracted the Egg.

"Oh my gosh," she moaned. "They are soooo good."

Draco licked his lips – then had to pretend he was licking chocolate from them when Granger caught him. "They are," he agreed. He paused: "Here's an idea, Granger – edible motivation." Granger quirked an eyebrow at him. "We quiz each other, taking a question apiece until someone gets one wrong – then the other person gets a chocolate." His eyes danced wickedly. "You up for it?"

Granger slowly smiled. "Prepare to lose your bounty, Malfoy."

Forty-five minutes later, Granger had eaten just over half of the bag of chocolates and was now clutching her stomach, complaining she felt unwell. But her complaints came through relaxed laughter, and to Draco's silent triumph, she had progressed to taking truffles from his open palm.

There was one Egg left in the bag. Draco held it out to her lips. In spite of her declaration of stomach ache, Granger eyed it covetously, then eyed him consideringly.

Before he knew it, her hand had shot out to take it. Using his Seeker reflexes (which were _just _as good as Scarhead's, thank you _very _much), he moved even faster and his hand snagged her wrist in mid-air.

Granger's eyes widened in surprise, but just as it started to skirt into alarm, he smiled, winked, and popped the chocolate straight into her mouth, deliberately allowing his fingers to brush her lips.

Hermione's resultant laughter was music to Draco's ears.

* * *

**A/N2 "Shuntbumps is a popular game in Devon, England. Players attempt to knock as many other players off their broomsticks as possible." With thanks to the Harry Potter wiki.**


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six:

**_"__Given enough time, you can progress to stroking and petting. __If you incorporate __this __with __judicious __treats, __the Granian __will begin to associate __your touch with pleasure._"**

**Extract from "_From Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed_, a how-to guide on taming Granian".**

* * *

Having successfully conditioned Granger not to reject his touch, Draco began working skin-to-skin contact into their study sessions.

One evening, as they got up to leave, he reached across and lightly brushed her cheek with one thumb. Granger looked startled, hand rising uncertainly to touch where his had been. "Did… did I have something there?"

"Just some dust," he lied pleasantly. "Must be from all those old books you love so much. You know, Granger, that was really quite an astute observation you made about how the æther is always grounded in the terrestrial."

Though his comment was truthful, Draco had spoken more to distract Granger from his action than anything else. So, Hermione's reaction took him by surprise: her eyes had sparked with startled pleasure, glowing like a Lumos-lit wand.

And that was how he discovered the decidedly favourable outcome of combining physical contact with praising her intellect. Draco lost no time in putting this theory to the test. Their next study session, Granger had launched into an impassioned speech on the Accio charm and its similarities to Apparition. She challenged the restrictions most wizards spoke of, stating her belief they were merely down to insufficient determination and deliberation. She flung out her arms as she spoke and tossed her hair; when it settled, it was hanging in her eyes. Draco smoothed the wayward curls away from her face, fingers lingering on her skin as he did so: "I love how your brain works. It's brilliant and unique."

Hermione positively beamed at him and stammered: "Th-thank you, Malfoy!"

Draco basked in the dual glow of her warmth and his own self-satisfaction.

Project Kiss-met was going from strength to strength.

So it was probably inevitable that he would do something to set things back.

* * *

Kiss-met took a lot of effort – in one sense Draco had had to work harder than he ever had in his life – but the effort reminded him of the low buzz of aching muscles after hours of flying; the contented fatigue that came after invigorating exercise. He so rarely got to fully execute his diabolical genius. It was a refreshing challenge.

_She _was a challenge.

And Draco was determined to win.

One unexpected side effect – he actually enjoyed the process. Much to his surprise, he enjoyed spending time with Granger, and the book was proving invaluable at making his way into her good graces.

Not that the Manual was infallible. One extract-inspired encounter had gone horribly awry:

_"If a Granian is proving particularly wary, it may be of benefit to allow it to see you around other horses you have tamed. If the tamed horses walk up to you and welcome your touch, your hard-to-catch Granian will see their behaviour and may imitate them."_

Really he should have known better than to expect Granger to model herself on a Slytherin's behaviour, especially one whose crush had been all too evident since last year, and who had been thrilled at receiving an invitation to sit with him in the Library.

When Granger came into the Library for a scheduled study session and saw Draco at a table with Astoria Greengrass – Draco had rejected Pansy as a suitable candidate for obvious reasons – when she saw him with Astoria, patting her hand as she adoringly smiled at him, Granger's warm brown eyes had turned positively arctic, and her magnificent hair had crackled with magical energy, even more volumised than normal. Granger had swept out the Library with her nose firmly in the air and firmly out of joint.

Years of altercations with the Trio had proven Granger by far the most self-controlled of the three Gryffindors, rarely reacting when Scarhead and the Weasel were practically frothing at the mouth. So, he was initially surprised at how much that particular encounter had gotten under her skin. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised what a berk he'd been to think Granger would respond anything but badly to something which impinged upon her school work.

The net result had been that Granger ignored him for three days, and he had had to continually dodge an increased influx of fluttering love notes, Pygmy Puffs left in his dormitory, and cries of "Drakey!" echoing on the wind as he took to the skies to escape them.

* * *

Another side effect from their spending time together was that his ploy had actually come true: he _was _learning a lot from the study sessions. Already a solid 'Exceeds Expectations' student in Ancient Runes, with the occasional Outstanding thrown in, he was now a straight 'O' student.

Armed with evidence of this improvement, he waved his mid-term report under Granger's nose whilst they were waiting outside 6A, pointing out it was her duty to resume studying with him – did she really want to be responsible for his marks slipping back?

Granger had bitten her lip, looking shifty for some reason, but then grudgingly agreed to meet him that evening after supper.

It was during this session that the reason for her discomfort became clear.

Granger's nib had broken; when she moved to extract a fresh quill from her school bag, she accidentally pulled out some parchment with it. Draco's eagle eye noticed the familiar insignia.

"Is that your school report?"

"Yes," Granger replied, quickly stuffing it back into her bag.

Draco's inherent ability to winkle out weakness immediately went on alert; something was up here.

Under the guise of an exaggerated stretch, he abruptly bent down and whisked the parchment from Granger's bag.

Granger immediately leapt to her feet. "Give it back, Malfoy!"

Grinning, he held it just out of reach, but to his lack of surprise, Granger was too clever to fall for this tried-and-tested guy move; instead of attempting to reach it by jumping, she folded her arms, looking less than impressed. Draco began to unroll the parchment in an exaggerated manner. Granger's arm twitched, but remained by her side.

It was standard practice with school reports to show previous marks and highlight any changes for better or worse. Therefore, Draco immediately zeroed in on the thing Granger least wanted him to: Granger had gotten an 'E' in Ancient Runes on her last report, and was now up to an 'O'.

"Oho oh!" His tone was positively gleeful. "No wonder you decided to continue our sessions! _Your _grades were in danger of slipping back, too!"

"It was one assignment!" Granger protested hotly. "I didn't have time to double-check it – Harry needed my help with—" She cut herself off then snatched the parchment from Draco's relaxed clasp, stuffing it back in her bag. The corners of her mouth turned down.

Draco's ears pricked up. "Potter needed help with what?"

Granger ignored him, and sat back down. She started to play with her quill, the movements stiff and jerky, refusing to meet his eyes.

Draco's smirk softened. He reached out and stilled the edgy movement, covering her hand with his own."Why so embarrassed, Granger? This is the epitome of a mutually beneficial relationship. What's the problem?"

Granger met his gaze, long lashes blinking in surprise. He smiled at her quizzically; after a few moments, she smiled back.

"Okay."

All of a sudden, she seemed to become aware they were practically holding hands and shifted as if to pull away. Draco removed his hand before she could, and his voice took on a pronounced drawl.

"Of course, the bias is definitely weighted more your way than mine..."

Granger lobbed the quill at him.

"Hey, I'm not the one who got an 'E'..."

She glared at him. "You're a prat."

He grinned at her. "You're a peach."

Against her best efforts, the glare gave way to a smile. "Idiot!" she muttered.

Draco mentally breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.


	8. Chapter Seven

**A/N So nice to see some new faces amongst the reviews - so nice to get reviews full-stop! Special thanks to the lovely guest reviewers who I can't reply to (naming those whose names I know): Ines, The hunt and Ari. Much appreciated :-)**

* * *

Chapter Seven:

**_"One of the reasons Granian make excellent steeds is their capacity for intuition. The more time you spend with your Granian, the more attuned it will become to you__. Given time, the Granian will be able to read your moods and act accordingly. A clever handler will use this to their advantage._"**

**Extract from "_From Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed_, a how-to guide on taming Granian".**

* * *

On entering the Library, Draco's legs instinctively moved to take the quickest route to his and Granger's study area, but he stopped dead as he spotted her a few yards away from the entrance. She had her back turned to him, but there was no mistaking that hair. She was standing in the Poetry section, and she wasn't alone.

The Pauper was with her.

Draco felt his lip curl. Saying that Draco had never liked Weasley was like saying "Hagrid was quite tall" or "Potter was an attention-seeking ponce" – it really didn't begin to cover it.

Draco considered his options: move out of sight and wait out their conversation, or strategically place himself somewhere where he could eavesdrop unseen and possibly gain ammunition against the ginger ape?

Yeah – that really was a no-brainer.

Slipping between two shelves, Draco looped round via the Invisibility section, allowing him to materialise on the opposite side of the bookcase where Granger and Weasley were standing. Carefully moving a few books to one side, he settled in to listen.

"I just don't get it – why are you spending so much time in the Library?"

Granger's tone was tolerant. "Ron, it's hardly novel for me to be spending a lot of time here."

"Not this much," Weasley objected. "You're here practically every day now – and if you're not here, you're off on some walk."

"I spend no more time walking than you and Harry spend on Quidditch practice." Prim and proper.

"Yeah, but we're together. We hardly get to see you anymore."

"And whose fault is that?" Granger's voice had taken on an edge.

Weasley became flustered. "Look, just because I've been spending time with L—"

"Oh, is that what you call it?" Granger interrupted.

There was a pause. "The point is, you're spending too much time on your own."

Interesting. Draco wasn't sure what Granger had been referring to, but it appeared she hadn't been totally honest with her friends about how often she and Draco were studying together.

He heard Granger shifting her feet. "I'm not always on my own. Sometimes, I have a study partner." She sounded… rebellious?

"A study partner? Who have you been – HERMIONE! _Please _don't tell me you've been spending all this time studying with that git-faced ferret?!"

"Not all of it, no. But, yes, I have been studying with Malfoy."

"_Why _didn't you tell us?"

"Gee, I wonder why not?" The sarcasm was heavy.

"I thought that time was just a one-off! Why would you choose to study with _him_?"

"Because he asked me," Granger said calmly. "He wanted help improving his grades." Ugh, Draco thought, displeased at this being relayed to Weasley. "And he's really rather bright," she continued. Hello! Draco perked up. "It's actually been really interesting bouncing ideas off one another." Her voice started gaining enthusiasm. "He's got a different approach from me – a different way of thinking. Between the two of us, we're covering so much new ground. It's really taken my schoolwork to another level!"

"Well, you can't!" Weasley's voice was horrified. "I don't care how good a study partner he is – you're not hanging out with him! I absolutely forbid it!"

"You forbid it?" Granger's tone had gone flat. "What makes you think you've got the right to forbid me anything?"

Draco stepped away from the bookshelf. Having stayed long enough to determine Granger wasn't going to be swayed by Weasley's opinion (he'd always said she was an intelligent girl; okay, not _always_, but he was saying it now), Draco decided now would be the perfect moment to make an appearance – just when things were about to turn explosive.

Retracing his steps, he appeared near the entrance and sauntered towards them as though he had only just entered the Library.

Granger and the Weasel had their heads close together, fiercely whispering. Draco strained to hear what they were saying. Then straining became unnecessary as Granger's voice erupted with sudden violence:

"IT'S NOT UP TO YOU, RONALD!"

Ahhh! Delightful.

Unfortunately, Granger's explosion hadn't only attracted Draco. Before he could say anything, Madam Pince suddenly appeared, swooping down like a vengeful Veela and hissing: "Ssssssssssssssssssilence! _Who_ is making such a vile din in the Library!"

Granger immediately turned contrite. "I'm so sorry, Madam Pince. It won't happen again. Ron was just leaving." She glared at Weasley.

Weasley's fists had clenched at Draco's appearance; at Hermione's words, he flushed a ghastly shade of red, the contrast against his hair even more dire than usual. He looked as though he wanted to Confringo Draco, but Granger's forbidding expression coupled with Madam Pince's minatory glare caused him to stomp off in graceless defeat. He growled over his shoulder as he left: "I'm watching you, ferret!"

Unfortunately, Weasley's leaving didn't abate Madam Pince's own outrage one jot. "You too!" she said sharply. "Both of you! I will not have noisy louts in my Library!"

"Oh, but, Madam Pince..." Hermione objected, dismayed.

"OUT! OUT! OUT!"

They fled.

The corridor was empty; Weasley must have already flounced from sight. Now safely out of earshot, Granger gave voice to her distress.

"What if she never lets me in again!"

"Calm down, Granger. That's not going to happen."

"How do you know?" she near wailed.

"Do you really think McGargoyle would allow her star pupil to be permanently banned from the Library? We'll just have to steer clear for a day or so."

Granger immediately looked more cheerful. "You think?"

"Definitely," Draco said. There was a moment's lull as they looked at one another. Draco no longer had the excuse of studying, but he was reluctant to pass up the opportunity of seeing Hermione alone, and he could see she was gearing up to a farewell. "Well, looks like we've both got an hour to kill. How about we go for a walk?"

There was a pause. "You want to go for a walk?"

Draco shrugged. "Why not?"

Draco could practically see the thoughts currently swirling through her mind, like long silvery strands in his own personal Pensieve. This was the first time he had actively suggested hanging out together outside of their study sessions; all previous walks had been accidental, as far as she knew. This was _deliberately_ spending time together. This was uncharted territory. "Okay... How about we go down near Hagrid's hut?"

Draco readily agreed – they were far less likely to run into students in that part of the grounds. He had been about to suggest the far side of the lake for the same reason. But as they made their way out of the castle, he found himself wondering what Granger's motivation was in proposing a secluded route... and then there was also the earlier revelation that she hadn't been open with her friends about how often they studied together...

A dreadful suspicion gripped him.

Ever since instigating Project Kiss-met, Draco had lived in fear that Granger might start sunnily chatting away at him in class, as she did in their study sessions, and had calculated possible approaches to forestall this without causing a setback. (These had included 1) secretly hitting Longbottom with the trip jinx – with his coordination, the ensuing chaos would be more than enough to cause a distraction; 2) casting the Muffilato spell so no one could hear when they spoke to one another; or, at a pinch, 3) using the tongue-tying curse on her.) But to his surprise, none of these had proven necessary. Aside from occasional smiles, too swift for most people to notice – and never when Potty or the Weasel were looking – Granger's interaction with him during lessons hadn't increased much at all. They were both civil to one another, on the few occasions they had reason to speak or interact, but that was as far as it went.

If he had thought about it, he would have guessed Granger incapable of keeping something like their association a secret – especially from her friends. True, she had been honest with Weasley just now, so it appeared she still wouldn't outright lie if she could help it, but she didn't seem nearly as averse to playing with shades of truth as Draco would have expected. She had told Weasley they studied together, but in a way that concealed the frequency, and apparently had kept their sessions to herself for some weeks. Draco had always assumed Hermione's innate forthrightness would preclude her from managing any kind of deception; turned out she was far sneakier than he would have given her credit for.

Now he found himself wondering why she would even want to keep it secret – as a good Gryffindor, shouldn't she want peace, love and inter-house unity? So why wasn't she declaring it from the rooftops? He had supposed it must be because she had no desire to instigate a fight with the lesser parts of the Trio. But now it occurred to him that maybe Granger felt the same embarrassment at publicly acknowledging their association as he did. Which was ridiculous! What did she have to be embarrassed about? Her credit could only rise. A Muggle associating with a Malfoy – think of the doors it would open to her! Though, admittedly, they might not all be doors she would wish to cross through… He considered some of his father's slightly seedier connections. He couldn't imagine Hermione engaging with those people. It made him strangely uncomfortable even thinking about it.

The irritating thing was, he couldn't openly question Granger and then point out all the reasons she should count herself bloody lucky she was getting to spend exclusive time with a Malfoy – not without revealing his own reluctance to go public, and not without risking blowing Project Kiss-met altogether. So, instead, Draco opted for underhand probing. He figured, given a little encouragement, he could get Granger chattering and draw the truth out of her before showing her the error of her ways.

At this point, they turned right towards the Forbidden Forest (towards, not into – this was an extremely important distinction to Draco's mind).

"So, what did the orangutan want?" Draco began.

"Malfoy, Ron is _not _an orangutan," Granger scolded.

"Are you sure? It would explain the hair and limbs..."

Granger's lips twitched. "Be that as it may, you shouldn't call him that."

Draco shrugged. "So, what did he want?" he asked again.

This time it was Granger's turn to shrug, looking uncomfortable. "He's not happy about us being study partners."

Draco kept his tone casual. "I'm surprised he didn't say something sooner – we've been studying for weeks, and Weasley's not exactly known for his self-restraint."

Granger's raised eyebrow clearly stated "Oh, and you are?".

Draco ignored it. "I'm actually a little surprised I didn't hear from him or Potter before today..." He trailed off leadingly. This was risky territory – it potentially laid him open to retaliation that none of his friends had said anything to Granger either, but increasing frustration with her silence made Draco more reckless.

Granger made a non-committal noise, gaze moving around their surroundings. "Goodness, what a beautiful day!" she said, breath pluming against the fresh, blue sky. It _was_ a beautiful morning, crisp and clear... and that was a blatant attempt to turn the topic. Draco scowled at an unseeing Granger. Weren't girls supposed to be chatterboxes? Did Granger have to confound _every _stereotype?

Meanwhile, Granger was tilting her head up to the autumn sunshine, looking deeply content.

"I love walking," she grinned.

"I hadn't noticed." It came out a little more caustically than he had intended; he was still feeling annoyed.

Granger shot him a quelling look, tossing her hair. Its coffee-toffee swirls glinted in the sunshine, distracting him from his irritation. Damn.

"Why _do _you like walking so much? Do Muggles not have any other way of getting around?"

Granger rolled her eyes. "Remind me to talk you through a combustion engine some time – I think you'd find it... edifying. It's a Granger tradition," she continued. "Grangers hail from good Yorkshire stock." She slipped into some kind of dreadful yokel accent as she spoke, arms beginning to swing with enthusiasm. "We are expected to go on regular ambles – and by 'ambles' I mean long, arduous tests of stamina and endurance – come rain, shine or blizzard." Her smile stretched to a grin. "I remember one Christmas, we were at my grandparents in Lockton. It had been snowing heavily for days, but Dad insisted we still had to go out for the 'post-turkey amble'. He stepped into a concealed ditch and got stuck. Mum and I weren't strong enough to pull him out – we had to get the local farmer out in his tractor. Luckily, he found it funny... Dad wasn't so amused though." She refocused on the present, and her smile turned wry. "That probably made no sense to you at all."

Draco shrugged. "Malfoys aren't big amblers," he conceded.

Granger nodded sagely. "Of course not – unicorn-drawn carriages, is it?"

Draco surprised himself by snort-laughing. "Not quite. But why walk when you can fly?"

Granger paused, then her lips twitched. "I'm having a hard time imagining your mother on a broom."

Draco had to acknowledge the fairness of that. "She doesn't generally fly," he agreed.

"So, it was your father who taught you?" Granger asked.

"Yes," Draco replied. "I remember when I got good enough to fly on my own. It was amazing – going anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted. Total freedom. Boundless possibility…"

Draco's mind drifted away. When he focused back in, Granger's head was cocked.

"What?" he asked, a little self-consciously.

"A psychoanalyist would have a field day with that."

Draco was baffled. "What's a Syka? And why do they analyse fields?"

To his indignation, Granger's amused smile had more than a touch of condescension to it. "It's a Muggle thing," she explained. "They interpret dreams and words to help other Muggles understand themselves better."

"Oh – like a seer?" Draco asked.

Granger wrinkled her nose. "Sort of. Though it's more an interpretation of the present and the past than the future."

Draco couldn't quite repress a sneer. "Muggles need help understanding their present? Are they that clueless?"

Granger glared at him, then melted into a saccharine smile that had Draco's hackles prickling. "Would you like a demonstration?"Without waiting for an answer, she continued: "Let's consider your love of flying. Answer me this, Malfoy: as someone who loves being a Malfoy and considers himself far more privileged than anyone else, why would you need flying to feel free? Why would you need _anything _to feel free? You're at the pinnacle of all wizarding kind, remember?" Draco bristled at the ironical inflection. "You know what that tells me? It tells me that you long for different possibilities. It tells me that at times your life – the very fact of being a Malfoy – makes you feel trapped."

Draco stared at her, horrified. "Don't be ridiculous!" he spluttered.

"And don't even get me _started _on the fact it involves broomsticks…" She trailed off, muttering something he didn't quite follow; something about a "freud". "You love being a Malfoy, but you also sometimes wish you could escape it… or someone."

Draco's hackles were now well and truly up. He opened his mouth to eviscerate her, but as she searched his expression, whatever she saw there made her soften, and she spoke first. "Don't get me wrong: I'm sure you love your father very much. But I'm also pretty sure he's not always the easiest person to live with. So much expectation..."

Ordinarily, any remotely derogative comment related to his family would make Draco destroy first and ask questions later, but he was too unnerved by Granger's observations.

Had she been taking Legilimency lessons?

The look in her eyes did _not _help – it wasn't pity, wasn't quite compassion. He would have had no problems utterly repulsing either. It was… caring. Draco really didn't know what to do with a Granger that was… _caring _at him.

Suddenly, Draco realised he was poised to bolt. Hang on, hang on! This was totally backwards.

He was the hunter here, not the hunted! Time to get things back on track.

Draco stepped into Granger's personal space. As always, her proximity drove every other thought or consideration from his mind other than the desire to kiss her. He raised a hand to cup her cheek – she didn't even flinch. He'd done his previous work too well. Time to kick things up a notch.

Finally giving into the impulse that had been driving him for months, Draco sank his hands into that luxuriant, bewitching hair, running its wild softness through his fingers. The nerve endings in his hands seemed to crackle. Cradling Granger's face, he gently tilted her head up.

Merlin, her skin was soft.

Hermione's lips were parted in a small 'o' of surprise; she wasn't running away, or even stepping away, but her eyes were tracking him warily, left to right, left to right. He so desperately wanted to see if those pink lips were as soft as they looked, but his instinctive cunning told him he had pushed her as far as she could go today.

So he stepped back.

"You think too much, Granger," he drawled, and headed back towards the castle.

* * *

The next day at lunch, an owl Draco didn't recognise swept into the hall, struggling with a heavy brown package.

To his surprise, it hovered over his head, hooting continuously. Draco glanced over towards the Gryffindor table and had his suspicions confirmed when he saw Granger was looking at him. She gave him a quick smirk, then started a conversation with the She-Weasel.

Draco raised his arms, and the owl dropped the package into his outstretched hands. Draco poured a little of his pumpkin juice onto a plate and held it up. The owl settled on his shoulder, craning its neck forward to drink, while Draco cradled the package against his chest with one arm.

"Who's that from, Draco?" Pansy asked suspiciously. (Pansy had been highly disgruntled ever since she'd caught wind of Astoria's crush, and had a tendency to show an alarming possessiveness at the smallest hint of another girl's presence in his life. Indeed, Draco had reason to believe that the reason the love notes had finally ceased was down to a not-so-gentle "conversation" between the two of them. The fact Greengrass involuntarily flinched whenever his gaze happened to fall her way only confirmed Draco's suspicions.)

"It must be from home," he replied. "I asked Mother to send me a book I need for my History of Magic project."

"That's not your family owl," Pansy objected, as apparently refreshed by its drink, the owl hooted gratefully and took off.

"Hermes injured his wing," he lied easily.

Pansy accepted this and went back to her interrupted conversation with the Slytherin girl opposite her. Now, why couldn't Granger be that manageable? Draco mused.

His lip curled as he caught what Pansy was saying, prattling about some new hair charm she had read about in Witches Weekly. Then again, it was probably just as well as she wasn't like Pansy.

Excusing himself, he took the package back to his dormitory, eager to see what Granger had sent him.

Once sure he was alone, he tore off the wrapping to reveal a hardback book with a dust jacket of some strange shiny material he didn't recognise.

There was a short note lying on top, written in a clear, steady hand (no i's dotted with hideous hearts here – let Astoria and Pansy take note):

_Thought this might come in handy next time you're in a field._

_HG_

With a frown Draco looked at the dust jacket:

"Introduction to Psychoanalysis: Contemporary Theory and Practice"

Draco's brow furrowed.

What the…?

* * *

**A/N 2 "Introduction to Psychoanalysis: Contemporary Theory and Practice" is a genuine textbook published by ****Routledge** in 1995, and written by ******Anthony Bateman and Jeremy Holmes. And, yes, it has a shiny yellow dust jacket :P**


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/N Sorry this has taken longer to update than usual - I had a house full of people for a few weeks and turns out I really need solitude to write! Thanks so much for the gorgeous reviews - it was so nice to hear from some new readers, but I'm also loving my lovely, regular reviewers. Special shout-out to Ari whose review made my day :)**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Eight:

_**Having made this headway, it's time to enter the Granian's more vulnerable areas. Starting on the near side, use both hands to massage its neck, then work your way to its withers, back and flanks.**_

**Extract from**_** "**__From Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed_, **a how-to guide on taming Granian".**

* * *

Granger was pinning back her long, lush hair, revealing the slender column of her throat; Draco watched, mesmerised.

His fingers itched to feel the silken weight again. He found himself reliving the moment he'd cradled her head over and over, only this time he would lean in...

When Draco was seven years old, his mother had taken him to a wizarding circus for his birthday. He recalled seeing The Great Alfonso, an acrobat famous for tightrope walking hundreds of feet in the air without benefit of an Equilibrium spell. Alfonso's ability to retain his balance in the face of adverse conditions whilst carrying increasingly unwieldy objects had won Draco's youthful admiration. Nine years later, Draco had come to the conclusion Alfonso's act had nothing on Project Kiss-met.

Like a skilled Quidditch player, he had to hover delicately between gradually winning Granger over, but retaining enough of his former attitude so as not to spook her – and that was without factoring any other players in. Not to mention Hermione herself could at times threaten the balancing act, distracting him at highly inopportune moments. Such as sitting at the centre of a knot of Slytherins during a full-to-bursting lunchtime.

This was particularly poor timing considering the news that he and Hermione were studying together had broken amongst his cohorts the day before. Zabini had "casually" dropped this little tidbit into conversation at supper. The manner in which he had done so made it clear that whilst Draco had successfully allayed his suspicions, Blaise still saw potential fodder to embarrass him and possibly even challenge his position as head of their inner circle. Draco had seen this off with a combination of boredom and disdain and managed to convince his compatriots that he was being forced in to it – not that that stopped Pansy from yakking on about how unfair and disgusting it was he had to study with the Mudblood, and why didn't he complain to his father and get him to use his influence, and was he even listening to her? Draco? _Draco_? DRACO!

Draco snapped out of his fugue to realise the voice wasn't a memory – Pansy had been trying to attract his attention for some time. Damn. He couldn't afford these lapses in concentration. Whilst not as skilled as him, his Slytherin brethren were quick to sniff out an intrigue and even swifter to exploit a weakness, and his tardiness in responding had caused Pansy to turn to see what had drawn his attention. When she saw it was Granger, her lip curled in disgust.

"How can she even get her hands through that horrible, coarse stuff? Kneazle fur would be easier to manage."

Draco barely managed to bite back the remark that Granger's hair was actually very soft and a far more interesting texture than Pansy's lank locks, thank you very much.

Pansy was eyeing him sidelong. He knew he ought to affirm her insult with one of his own, he could tell from her face she was expecting him to, but a strange stubbornness descended. The apparent necessity of saying something he didn't really mean grated. He didn't mind when he was with Granger. It was entertaining heading her off, watching her reactions, trying to stay a step ahead... He relished the challenge. And, actually, much of the time, what he was saying to Granger was truthful – just deployed to the best possible advantage. Having to weigh words, outright lie and explain himself to others who insisted on sticking their wands in was less entertaining. Life would be so much easier if they would just mind their own business. Life would be so much easier if he could just be honest...

Hang on… Had he really just thought that? His inner Slytherin blinked in horror. Clearly, he'd been spending too much time with Granger.

Draco spoke up in a drawl. "I think that's a little unfair to Kneazles, Pansy. They don't have hair bushy enough to lose a Yeti in."

The crowd around him guffawed, looking over at the Gryffindor table where Granger was seated. As if sensing their scrutiny, Granger's eyes flitted over. Draco knew she was too far away to have heard his quip and carefully kept his expression blank, pretending to be engrossed in his pudding. She would likely still suspect the table was talking about her, but she wouldn't think he had instigated it. He glanced up in time to meet her eyes; the look she gave him didn't seem upset, so he could assume his ploy had been successful. He had simultaneously managed to placate his friends and deceive Granger. He should have felt relieved. He should have felt satisfaction that he continued to walk the tightrope so well.

Draco pushed his crème brûlée away.

* * *

Following lunch, Draco had a free lesson and was engaged in his now habitual Granger-stalking.

Risking life, and more importantly reputation, he was hanging around near the entrance to Gryffindor tower, waiting for Granger to emerge for her Arithmancy lesson. It wasn't one of his scheduled Kiss-met stops, but it had been a few days since their walk by Hagrid's hut and their next study session wasn't until the following evening; considering lunchtime's events, he felt it would be inauspicious to leave their next meeting until then.

Having been curtly questioned on what he was doing there by the painted fat cow in the pink dress, he was hovering just of sight, but angled so that he could see who was coming in and out.

Fortunately, he didn't have long to wait. The portrait door opened and an unmistakable explosion of frothy curls poked out, followed by the rest of her.

Holding back a moment to check she was definitely alone, Draco sauntered towards her, words of greeting on his lips, but stopped in disbelief as she straightened up and he got a good look at her face.

Granger was crying.

At that moment, she spotted him. Gasping in horror, she closed her eyes for a pained second. "Not _you_," she breathed. Then to his astonishment, she pelted off down the corridor.

To his even greater astonishment, without his consciously telling them to, his legs started hurrying after her, sparking a slightly panicked internal conversation.

What are you doing? Granger's crying – crying Granger! Crying girl! Abort, abort!

His legs didn't listen and continued to pursue her down the corridor and winding staircase. The staircase opened out on to a wide fifth-floor corridor. There was a particularly ugly statue with a very confused expression and a large painting of a former Gryffindor Head Boy, who made a rude gesture at him when he recognised Draco's house colours; but no Granger.

He'd lost her.

Not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed, he came to a standstill then heard a sort of snuffling sound coming from behind the statue. Shuffling forward and peering round the edge, he found Hermione huddled in a tight ball of misery.

Squatting down beside her, he spoke softly, trying not to spook her. "Granger?"

Granger lifted her head from her crossed arms. "Sod off, Malfoy," she growled, swiping at her eyes and glaring.

Hugely uncomfortable, Draco went to leave, but then paused, reading the underlying message in her eyes. Hermione felt vulnerable, and she expected him to mock her for it. A very Slytherin voice commented this was a prime opportunity to further his plans by subverting her expectations, but as he gazed down at her, all he could think was that he didn't like to see her cry.

It was so disfiguring for one thing.

Bracing a hand on the ground, he swung his legs out and sat down beside her, then reached out and gently patted her shoulder: "There, there?" he tried. Even through the tears Granger's eye-roll was unmistakable. Recalling the Manual's advice, Draco shifted his hand to her back and began slowly moving it in deep, soothing circles.

After a few minutes of this, Granger's rigid posture insensibly relaxed; she let out a tiny sigh. Draco pulled a silk handkerchief from his robes (monogrammed with the Malfoy crest, of course) and offered it. After a moment's hesitation, she took it and began mopping her eyes and nose.

Draco hazarded a question. "What's wrong?"

"Like I'd tell you," Granger scoffed, all previous spikes firmly back in place, but under that… under that he realised she was frightened.

"Why not tell me?" he pointed out calmly. "I'm not connected to your house or your friends. I can be neutral."

Granger emitted a watery snort of disbelief. "'Neutral'!"

"Okay, so that means it must be to do with Potter or Weasley." She stared at him, and he rolled his eyes. "I'm not a seer, Granger; it's called logic. To get such a strong reaction, it had to be someone I'm actively hostile to and vice versa. I'm going to assume it's the Weasel," he continued. "Potter's got a modicum more sense than Weasley, enough that he's less likely to say something dumb enough to make you cry."

Her eyes told him he'd hit the Quaffle square on.

Draco repressed a flash of anger. "What did he say to you?" he asked in the same neutral tone. When she didn't respond, he slipped his hand under the heavy curtain of her hair so it cradled her neck and began gently massaging the tension he found there.

Granger looked at him, bemused, and then suddenly blurted: "He said if I didn't stop being such a nagging, know-it-all, I'd never get a boyfriend."

Draco was thunderstruck. "Merlin, Granger – why would you let what that lanky, freckled freak says upset you?" Granger looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. Draco paused: insulting her friend probably wasn't the way to go (however inexplicable that friendship choice was).

He thought for a moment, then inspiration struck. "What is Waffling's First Rule of Magic?"

"A spell is only as good as its caster," Granger replied automatically.

"Exactly," Draco said. "The same is true of opinions. So, why would you take on the opinion of someone who has the romantic finesse of a troll and the… " he trailed off, his resolve not to insult her friends having lasted fewer than ten seconds.

Hermione giggled. "Emotional range of a teaspoon?" she suggested.

"Exactly!" Draco exclaimed, hugely relieved that she was looking more cheerful.

Granger quieted, eyeing him sidelong. "Not so long ago you'd have said the same thing."

"Nonsense – I'd've been far more imaginative." Sadly, this time Granger didn't laugh. Draco shrugged. "Not so long ago, I didn't know you," he said quietly, then balked internally. Where the hell had that come from? Hermione's answering smile was so radiant it knocked the thought clean out of his head.

Then the smile slid off to be replaced by a look of horror. "Oh, no! Arithmancy! I'm late!" She shot to her feet. Turning to face him she started to run backwards, waving his handkerchief in farewell. "Thank you, Malfoy!"

Then she was gone.

Draco got to his feet, feeling slightly uneasy.

The Slytherin voice berated him for not fully exploiting the situation. Admittedly, she hadn't been looking her best, but in her vulnerable state, it would have been the ideal time to try for a snog. Especially in light of Weasley's remark. The chances of her going along with it would have been greatly increased.

Draco wondered why it hadn't even occurred to him to try. Could he be going soft?

No, he decided firmly: it was the snot that had put him off.

* * *

**A/N 2 "Adalbert Waffling (d. 1981) was a British wizard who was a magical theoretician, credited to have written 'all about magic'. Waffling was the one who formulated the Fundamental Laws of Magic and wrote _Magical Theory_, a most popular textbook still being used today in the of young wizards at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." With thanks to the Harry Potter Wiki for this information.**

**I made up the First Rule of Magic, the Great Alfonso and Equilbrium spells since none of the spells mentioned in the books or wider materials quite met the criteria for a balance spell.**

******Hermione's suggestion that Ron has the emotional range of a teaspoon was deliberately pilfered from the dialogue in Order of the Phoenix :)**


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